


Pressure

by persistent_pedantry



Series: The Collected Escapades of Minerva and René Galliard IV [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2020-10-17 06:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persistent_pedantry/pseuds/persistent_pedantry
Summary: I was always fascinated with the cave at the back of the Pokémon Village. Why was it there? Was the place really that welcoming as to invite destruction incarnate?Beats me.





	Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> An immediate try to develop Minerva as a character, considering how well she can handle herself. This was my proudest work for a while, though now I look back at it... I’m pretty proud of it still.
> 
> Granted, finding out about Zalgo text did me no favours at all.

Childhood has never been a massive influence on her. She had a good enough childhood, raised by a veteran and a hippie. It's a damned good thing they're no longer around, or she'd probably be disowned by now.

It was a long while ago. Fifteen years, at the very least. Panic broke the euphoria that rests over the Pokémon Village, the parents arguing and squabbling about the immense 'weight' in the air: psychic pressure so great that even non-spiritual Pokémon could feel it. The Banettes, the Gardevoirs; it was like a migraine for them. The weight was too much to bear, so everyone grouped up to debate on the matter. She couldn't be included, of course; she was merely a Ralts at the time. Her mother, her father, the others are just a blur; they were all together, talking. She couldn't remember much except for... frustration. Worry, confusion, anger; she didn't know what was happening, but she was kept with her brother, a Kirlia at the time; oh, how she used to envy him.

Her mother said something. What she said was definitely controversial, considering the uproar is caused. The sudden shift in emotion was staggering: disbelief, mainly. Sheer, stark disbelief, followed by righteous anger. Yet, her mother... she was a lover of peace, but she used a firm hand when it was needed, proverbially speaking. The group fell silent. She was speaking; a Gardevoir of few words, but what she said was valued more than anything she owned. What felt like an eternity had passed, and the emotions shifted again.

It was sadness.

Grief.

Her father embraced her, hugged her like he was never going to see her again. She returned the favour, in her usual delicate way. She then walked away somewhere... no, no, she disappeared. A flicker, and she was in front of... a cave. It's the mouth of the cave, the cave that they were always warned to stay away from. She never knew why until this day, and it only strengthened her fear of whatever was in there; whatever was causing that massive pressure. Her mother wasn't very strong, but she was quick; she could teleport as easy as anything, flickering everywhere. Though, she can barely remember anything about her. She remembers how quick she was, and how mild she was, but... well, that's almost it. She didn't talk too much, too, so it was hard to find out anything about her, especially considering... what happened.

She stood at the cave's mouth. How long, she hasn't a clue, but she remembers her walking inside. The world was silent, even the breeze ebbed like a dying flame. Emotions were null, devoid of all feeling but expectancy. Not even grief, not fear, nor sadness; just pure... pure expectancy.

Until the pressure lifted.

Then the emotions flooded in. Fear, sadness, happiness, anger, confusion; everything, every piece of the emotional spectrum erupted in her mind, and the aura of the village was... it was a complete mess. She couldn't feel the pressure anymore, but neither could she feel her mother's energy. The massive source of psychic energy, along with her's... and her father knew it. She remembers his face better than anything else: it was blank. He didn't celebrate, he didn't sob, he didn't even move; he simply stood on the spot, staring blankly at the cave's mouth. After a good, long while, his hand began to move, raising to rest a hand on that scarf he adored. He didn't grip it, he just rested his hand on the fabric. She can't remember how long he did that, but she remembers watching him, waiting for some sort of reaction. She didn't approach him, slowly putting the pieces together. Her mother. Her mother got rid of the pressure, she made the village a peaceful place again... but at a cost.

It's a pity she never stayed; she might have kept Minerva on the straight and narrow. It's too late to undo the past, though. She's a criminal now: a thief, a larcenist, a killer; someone who doesn't intend to pay the price for anything - and that extends to her mother.

Years have passed, and Minerva stares into the darkness. The cave had taken her mother, but it'll have to be either narcissistic or crazy to think it can take her. The pressure is still there. It still lingers in the air like a foul smell, Minerva smiling dryly as she takes a step forward. She used to be terrified of this cave. On nights like tonight, she used to hide in her parents' arms, hoping that the cave wouldn't be feeling hungry - typical of a child, being irrationally scared. Now, she's powerful, unbeatable; she's fought those double the size of her with ease, and a mound of rocks and dirt isn't going to break her streak. With sparked confidence, she steps inside, crimson eyes adjusting to the darkness. While it was night outside, the darkness of the cave seems almost unnatural; perhaps there are Ghost-types insi--

The cave is small. A figure stands in the centre.

Humanoid, but far from a Gardevoir. It's... pink?

Oh.

Oh no.

Ţ̡̧̜̻̺̫̳͔̳̪̇̿̑̈́̈̅̔͆̕̕͝ḥ̡̥͉̻̭̬̟͔͉̀͂̈͊̽̄̄͛́̒͘ͅȅ̙̗͍͕̺̲̪̟̼̩̀̓́͑͌̏̓̏̕̚ͅ ̘̺̮̦̺͕͇̮͓̳̈̑̊͆̽͂̇̋͗͝ͅp̭͔͚̫͎̳̖̖̮̭͆͂́̍̋̄͋͆̀̾̚͜r̨̡̫̤̜̭̟͓͕̜̗̆̽͐̎̂̓̈̏̎̑͝ȩ̦̳̫̳̝͔̳͉͇̗̍̌͗̂̇́̓̈́̓͑̿ş̡̥̯̭͇͍͉̫̱͊͂̂̏̑̈̏̓͠͝ͅş̛̠̜̪̘̞̘͉͍̦̈́̀̎̌̈́͗̑̚͝ͅṷ͚͔͚̱̮̻͈̤͎͂̇̏͑́̓̄̋͑͛͘͜r̢̡͎̻̠͎͚͙̤̦̦̈́͑̿̌̒͗̅̿̓̕̕ê̳̯̜͓̳̰̞̘̜̤̗̓̍͗͐͋́̿͘͝͝ ̢̭̝̟̙̦̙͙̞̭̮͑̈́̅͒́͗̑̅͝b̛̦̦̯͈̦̭͖͇̬̌͛̒͊́͊͛̾̓͗͜ͅe̢̧̧̛͇̲̻̪͇̖̰̭̅̈́͂͌̾͌̈́̀̆͝a̝̟̪̠̹̱̤͕̺̱̞̎̊̾͒̈̈́͋̌̀̚͝r̛̬̺̘̝̗̺̲̜̲̣̀́̆́̽̅͊̃̏͜͠ş̳̯̯̞̝̫̘̳̦̙̋̅̀̈́̑̊̾̂́̔͆ ̧̨̡̺̹̘̞̣̲̰͔̾̀̈͋̄͌̀͂͠ḑ̢̹̮̹͈̯̤͓̜͛͆͂̿̃̄̓̏̂̀͠ͅȯ͍͇̟͇̟͉̤̗͙̜̦̏̇̽̆̎̾͗̚͝w̛̝̟̦̺̥̲̣̝̹̘͆͊͑́͗́̕̚͝͝ͅņ̖̳̬̞̹̲̬͎̻̠̽͆̒̌͊̓̿̌̇͆͝ ̢̞̯̭͚̠̞̘͈̪̦͑̎̏̿̄͆̍͛̄͒͘ơ̛̛͈̺̭̜̩͈̲̦̠̫̮͊͋͐̃̏̈́͘̚n̨̯̗͍͔͍̻̠̘͇̤̏̑̿̿̾̏̇͐̃̔̔ ̼̠̫̝̲͖̠̰̠̹̈́͆͌̀͆͛͆̑̕͝͝ͅḧ̢̞̹̦̟̻͉̪̣̥͇́͒̇͗̀̓͋̃̿͘͝e̛̛̝̤͙͎͉̻̞͉͕̹͓̅̀̓̈͒̀̄̂͝r̢̲̤̮̬̖̤̥̲͔̩͆͑͐̏͌̆̇̏̓͝.̧̛̛̘̮͍͔͈̳̹̦̪̥͌͗̈́̅̈́̽͠͝͝

The air turns to lead, her once confident gaze faltering under the immensity. This... this isn't the pressure her mother went against. This is stronger. So, so, so much stronger.

It HURTS.

Minerva stiffens her frame, taking a hesitant step towards the figure. She can do this. It's putting all of its energy into its aura; that's a tactic even older than her, and her parents, then probably theirs'. She's powerful. Her psychic energy can crush minds, and she's not going to let it beat her at her own game.

Y̧̼̗̯̻̟̖̮͇͕̿̈͂͊͛͐̊̿͗͠o̰͈̞͙̲̮͉̯̳̝͐̊̆̍͑̏̈́̔͘ú̢̠̹̟͎͖̣̼̞̜͐̊͊̄͌́̆͝ ̢̛̯̲̟̤̥̬̪̤̹̍͒͗̏̍̇̋̚͠ā̢̩͓͈̝̲̦͖͖̯̈́͆̅̊̓̒̓̑r̛̩̰̖̹̥̯̦̤̻̮̎͗͒̃̏̋̈́͑ẽ̡̧̦͍̞͙͉͓͖̰̀̊̌̄͆͑̔́̈ ͙̼͚̭͔̯͙̮͂͊̌̈́̏̑̑̕͜͜͝ẘ̰̜̯͚͖͎̼̮͈̓̔̎̍͗̊̇̆̈ͅe̢͓̳̦͍̠̱͙̺̜͛̍͐͂̊͐̈́̍͝ą̦̼̳͍̗̠̥̗̩͒̎̈́̌́̔̏͝͝k̢͍͇̝̫͖̥͕͔͔̏̑́̊̌͊̚͠͝.̛̗̬̳̱͕̻̟̜͉̦̅̀̃̋́̾̈́̋̕

_Oh, so we're doing this._

Minerva takes another step forward, glaring at the figure with malice in her gaze. She won't go down to it. She has trained, she has fought, she has killed; she is easily one of, if not the most powerful Psychic-type in Kalos, and it will NOT take that away from her.

Y̧̛̳̳̗͉̳̳̳̯̏̄͒̓͌̀̈͐͘ͅo̖̲̟̦̯̲̺̤͚͆̔́̊̅̓́̊̌̿͜ữ͈͕̱̳̣͚̱͍̰̳̏͊̀́̄͘̚͝ ͖̥͓̭̮̣̞̪̻͕̎̿̄̆͆̒͂̈͘͝a͎̺̣̤̟̗̭̬͉̿͒̈́̔͒̀̀̾̎͠ͅr͍̦̪̰͎̟̠͖͑̇́̾̆̍͒͗̕ͅͅę̞̣̜̠̼̗̰͍̝͂̃̿͐̕͘̚͘ ̬̭̝̣͈̻̳̘͇̍͗́̂̌̑͒̕͜͝p̹̻̰̥͈̤̬̝̭̑̑̓͒̄͊̍͊̓͜r̪̝̘̼̰̲̳̪͇̠̄̈́͌͊͊̑̈́͊̕͝ǫ̛͎̦͉͓̘̘̪̭̘̈̇͒͌̿̿̓̈́͝u̢̙͔̮̳͕̝̲̺͔͐̓̊́̂̀͐̊͘͝d̨̨̝̦̝͍͍̞̹͓́̏̄̀̾̅͘̚͝.̢̫͎̮͍͍̰̼͇̙̃̔̏͌͗̋̇̄̚͘

_You don't know half of it._

She grimaces, taking another step closer. It grips the mind, it stiffens the body through pain, and fear. A malicious aura that bears down on you, like you're thousands of feet under the ocean. She knows this pressure, and she knows what its doing. All she needs to do is break its focus, and she can do what she's always wanted to do her whole life: eliminate the cave, and whatever miscreant might be hiding inside it.

Ỵ̧͇̮̗̱͇̫̺̇̾͗͊̎̀̓͒̇͜͝ǫ̬̲͔̥̼̥̬̏̏̈́̔͋͂̑̑̈́͗͜͜ų̼͙͚̻̤͙̠̟̳̎͛̃̀̓̊̽͐͝ ̛̙̹̱̝͚̟͇͙̝̖̍̾͋̈́̊̀͑͝͝w̬̲̜͓̗̱͍̖͙̤͆̾̂͊̂̈́͊͗͘͘ă̧̝͚̪͔͚̯̩͓͚̍̒̓̇̒̍͒͘͝ņ̢͉̦̩̻̭̞̘͔̇͆̂̈̎̾͊͘͘t͍͓͇͖̪̮͉̥͕͛̀̽̑̔͑̓̌͑̀͜ ̢̛̝̲̥̤̬̫̝̖͛͑͛̅̄͋̀ͅr̨̭̣͚̤͚͈̞͍̅̌̾͆͊̆͒̾͜͝e̤̞͉͍͓̪̙͓̞͊̎̑̿̈̓̔́̿ͅv̨̗̘̻̙͍̤̬̦̞̌̍̄̌̏͆̋̌̀̕e̹̤̰̜̗͇̲̹̝̼̊͂̋̈́͊̽̎̔̕̚n̨̦̼͕̲̝̖̜̽͑̏̾̾̆̿́͋͘͜͜g̨̗̙̦͖͖͔̮͇̒̈́̔̾͌̑̊̍͂̕͜e̡̧̨̢̲̥̖̭͉͇͂͐́͆̀̓͒̏̕͝.͎̼̟̺̹̩͈̺̟͙̈̃̇̓͋̊̈́̔̂͒

_I want you to shut up._

She staggers forward, trudging her feet towards it. Less than a meter separates them. Three meagre feet stop her from pummelling it into the ground. She doesn't care what it is, she doesn't care who it is. It may be legend, but it hasn't been out of this damned cave in years: it's rusty, she isn't. It's weak. She's strong.

The figure turns.

Minerva freezes, staring at the unnatural being. It looms over her, empty purple eyes staring down at the intruder.

I̢̞͉̻̣̩̺͒̓̒̔̌͆͘ ̖̯͙̤̬͒̀͗̔̑̂͝ͅͅa̙̫̮͙͙̱͉̾͋̒̃͛̀̚m̛͔̗̜̺̹̦̲͆̅̿̄̽̊ ͕̹̥̟̙͖͚̀͒͂͛̄͑̔ŝ̥͍͍̠͖̫͊́͌͑̓̀͜ȗ̧̟̘̮̲͉͉̽̂̓̓̕p͓̳͙͙̗̭̌̾́̃̎͑͜e̜͚̣͖͎͈̰͐͑́̔͂̊̚r̝̯̹̙̲͇̆͐̽͋̃̅̈́ͅi̹͕̞̪͇͓͓͗̍̃͌́͊o̢̨̙̞̙̲̠̾͗̍̏͑̕͠ŗ̼̞̤͙͖̼͒͋͌̈́̈́͂́.̪̩̮̺͔̰̣́̊̄̈̂͂͝

Minerva simply looks up at it, giving a daring smile.

_T'es un narcissique._

Its body blurs, a heavy strike coming from what seemed like nowhere. Minerva is driven back, landing painfully against the wall. Well, that's his focus broken. The pressure hasn't let up whatsoever. That... that complicates things. Her smile has disappeared, replaced by a concerned expression as she watches the approaching figure. A drawback is a drawback, but it shouldn't be a massive issue. Her eyes gleam, glowing a soft magenta - until she's thrown again, breaking eye contact as she crashes to the ground. Okay, so hypnosis isn't working. She had him for a good second or two, and now he knows the ace up her sleeve. She probably shouldn't have tried it so early.

She flickers, attempting to teleport away to little avail. She manages to teleport a few feet towards him, intending to go behind him; that, and now she has an even worse migraine than before. Damn it, she isn't built to take damage, she's built to dish it out. Minerva looks up to the figure, slowly rising to her feet as she gives a weak grin.

Y̡̨̢̹̬̩̻͔͔̳̅̅͌̓̈́̆̓̾͝͝ơ̡̫̙̥̤̠͈̝̝̄͌̈̓̍̓̕͝ͅų̭̘̤̦̦̘̱̭̎̓̏̀̓͐͊͘͜͠͝ ͙̥̘̦͍͈͉̯̮̏̂̓̌̓̾͂̈͐̕͜a̧̗̞̰̗̺̭̳̪͚͊̈̀͐̈́̄̈̚͘̚r̜̭͕̝̝̞̖̬̘̹̅̾̇̀̌̈́͗͘͠͝e̯̞͖̠̣̘̜͕͚͗̊̎̍̌̏̑̓̎͜ ̢̛̩̝̜̗̮̘̗̗̀͂̀̓͛̃͒̕͜͝w̨̺̰̤̹̜̬̗̟̞̓̈̎̀͒̇̕̕͝͝ȩ̢̢̺̤̩̣̖͓͈̔̂̄͒͌͂́̓̆͝ā͉͈͕̳̳̩͇̘͇̞̍̈́̓̆̏̾̚̚̚ķ̢̯͇̠̯̫͇̹̗͆̽̈́̍̅͛̈̊͌̚.̛͚̲̭̠̙̜̣̣͇̻̿̀̊̎̓̎͂̊

And you have either an unsurprisingly limited vocabulary, or a love for clichés.

She stumbles forward, her hand lighting up a similar magenta to how her eyes once glowed, only harsher. Much harsher. She staggers to the left, feinting with a hook to the right, landing a hook to the side of its head. It recoils, wincing at the hit, but doesn't seem too perturbed; honestly, it doesn't show much emotion whatsoever, it just raises its hand, shining a much harsher pink than hers. No, no, no, she does NOT want that; she knows what he's doing, and she doesn't want a taste of her own medicine. Probably tastes like aniseed, anyway. She staggers away, raising both hands to the tip of her chest with gritted teeth. This... is going to be hard.

The echoes of the cave subside. What little light is drained into the black, tiny hole forming between Minerva's hands. The figure approaches, it's hand still shining. She hunches over, the hole slowly growing larger, to the size of a small football. By now, pebbles, dirt, and small stones are being sucked into the hole. She draws her hands out marginally, causing the hole to grow slightly, blackness beginning to envelope the two as the figure begins to step back, watching the Gardevoir dangerously. She grins, despite herself, her body shaking as the light is sapped from the cave, into the manifesting black hole within her hands. It hurts. It hurts so, so much; her own psychic pressure beginning to rival the one she once feared: evil, malevolence, spite; all of her most powerful emotions all forming into the seething blackness. It raises a hand, the palm shining a harsh magenta as a ball of radiant energy begins to form, aimed at Minerva's head. Its pressure had subsided, Minerva's now dwarfing the smaller source of energy.

D̨̡̛̟̱͔͇̼͙̑͂̒̾̋̔͗̆͜͜ơ̺̯̝͔̟̟̺̮̈́͛́̈̚͜͝͝ͅ ̢͓̮͓̮͔̤̩̘̍̈̅̌̔͌̈́̾͑̅ͅn̨̹̻̥̫̤̫̥̮̭̋̀̑͗͌̊̒̓͂̚ơ̧̻̘̺͇͖͚͙͔͔̌̓͆̄̏͊̍̂͊t̨̡̘̹̜̭̹͚̮͇͊̈́̈́̑́̊͋̑͝͝.̡̣͉̞̯̺͉͚͓̗̇̈́̅̈́́̈͒̀̒͠

She looks up, crimson eyes shining in the sheer darkness of the void.

  
_Watch me._

_  
The world goes black._

_Minerva lands on the grass._

_Everything hurts._

_Her body_

_Her mind_

_Everything._

_She got away._

_Just._

_She..._

_She curls up_

_She cries._

_Tears fall like dew._

_She lost._

_She lost._

_•_

_•_

_•_

_Three years later._

Minerva stands at the mouth of the cave, smiling to herself. The pressure is bearing down on her again. She idly rolls the stone in her hand, looking to her partner. "So it is here," René says, Minerva nodding in response. She steps inside, looking at the figure standing within. She glances back to René, the Hunter brushing a thumb over the small stone embedded on Minerva's Poké Ball. 

__

_Guess who._


End file.
